Member Poem

Part 1. First Signs
are small as sprouts.
Tensions rise in
push-and-pull undercurrents,
Test water by
dipping toes in other’s brinks.

Upon noticing
(it takes years of experience—
don’t worry, you’ll get there)
They can be easily tamed.
Don’t be afraid to get your feet wet:
Wade in the currents to scatter ‘em,
Nudge ‘em away from another’s edge,
Though they should’ve learnt it themselves
Long ago.
Remember to laugh
Like you are splattering at the beach.
It helps.

*If untamable, proceed to Part 2
Part 2. The Storm
breaks.
300 miles per second of
Thrashing looks.
400 inches per hour of
Pouring wails.

Now, it’s instrumental to stay calm
and assess your surroundings.
If fortune favors,
you’ll only hear distant rumbles
Of plates clattering and shattering.
Find shelter.
Close the door.
Fix your eyes on a wall
(time to count the polka dots!)
Fill your ears with a song you sang
(trembles and breaks are acceptable)
Seal your senses so they trust you
enough to believe
none of this exists, none of this endures.

If caught in the eye of storm,
smothering and suffocating.
Do not move.
(your freeze response probably did it already)
Shrink yourself.
(become furniture, become shadow)
Bow your head,
(as if)something heavy is on your mind.
Look ahead
into the thin air that exists no more.
Anywhere but at the storm,
Or else it can’t pretend
to not see you anymore,
Will swarm you like bees.

Wait patiently until storm is over,
but stay still even then.

Part 3. Aftermath

Is bearable.
If you can live to bear it,
Or bear to live it.
The tip is to tiptoe,
(pretend you’re wearing invisible stilettos)
And hold your breath.
(like deep underwater)

A meal or two will be missed,
A sun or two might be drowned,
But you wait—
not for apologies or amendments,
not for eulogies or endings,
but for that first crack of smile,
Or that tentative croak of voice:
“Come eat dinner.”

Seize your chance.
Smile. Nod. Return
The storm is not over,
It never started.